


Time

by Neanda



Category: Strike Witches
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neanda/pseuds/Neanda
Summary: In a world at war, two soldiers fight side by side for a chance at liberation. But can the future bring them something more?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I belatedly found out that today is Holocaust Remembrance Day, and I immediately wanted to try uploading a Strike Witches fic in honor of it. This one happened to fit the best, although my original plan was to keep it off the internet until all of the chapters were finished. Oh well. I’ll do my best to get the next chapter ready, but it might be a while, as usual. 
> 
> The title is based on one of Minna’s character songs, which is called Toki, or Time in English. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Strike Witches is the legal property of Shimada Humikane. I write fanfiction to pay homage to the source material and promote awareness of its existence. And for fun. No copyright infringement is intended.

_July 17, 1941_

Castle Barin was a massive base, Minna thought. She knew this, of course, but it seemed so much larger when one was dreading the destination ahead. Two more hallways and she would be there. She wrung her hands.

Minna had many worries. Their new wing’s budget, for one, and especially the struggle to even get the Joint Fighter Wing project off the ground in the first place. But what concerned her most of all was morale. It had only been about a month since the fall of Gallia, and the losses weighed heavily on all of them. None more so, it seemed, than her oldest friend in the wing.

With the lull in battle as of late, it was becoming increasingly obvious that something was wrong with Trude. Minna knew why; Trude loved her family, and her sister’s comatose state was a constant source of stress. They hadn’t had time to discuss it during the evacuation, what with the constant fighting and relocating, but they had agreed to talk when they could.

Now that moment was here, and Trude was pulling away instead. She never spoke unless it regarded a military matter and any attempts to strike up casual conversation fell flat. What free time she had was spent training, inspecting, or doing paperwork, mostly alone. This was more than reticence; she was isolating herself.

Minna hadn’t pushed at first—Trude highly valued personal space, and she respected that—but she did not seem to be improving. She then attempted to draw Trude out of her shell at the end of a meeting, only for the other to walk out.

 _Leave me alone,_ she’d said. The room had seemed so cold and empty afterward.

That had been yesterday. It was a clear signal that she could not wait any longer. If she let Trude put even more distance between them, she felt like she might lose their friendship forever. And the thought of losing another loved one…

Her hands trembled without her permission and she let out a shuddering breath. That wound was still fresh. She didn’t want to go through such a thing again.

Too soon and not soon enough, she rounded the corner to the hangar, spotting Trude right away. Her friend’s back was to her. She held a MG42 in one hand while she slotted the saddle drum magazine with the other, before returning the machine gun to its mounting. It seemed she had just finished an inspection of her weaponry; both MG42s had a sheen to them that suggested they had recently been cleaned.

Minna glanced around, confirming no one was around—although her magic had already told her as much—before she stepped forward, hesitation slowing her.

“Trude?”             

Trude turned around, not looking surprised in the least; apparently she’d heard her coming. “Ma’am,” She snapped off a salute.

Minna returned it automatically, more for protocol than anything else. Then she gave Trude what she hoped was a disarming smile. “Please, relax. I’m not here on official business.”

Trude didn’t return the smile, and although she did stand at ease, her body language remained unchanged: stiff and tense, with a stony expression to match. Honey brown eyes, once naturally warm, were now cold and uninviting, accentuated by an ever-present frown.

Trude’s eyes were what worried Minna the most. Before, even when they weren’t friends yet, Minna was able to see the drive and zeal that Trude put into her work. There was passion there—hidden in lieu of a professional demeanor of course—but it had always been rather obvious to Minna’s perceptive eye. Now she could see none of that, and she wanted it back.

“I know you wanted to be alone, but I’m worried about you,” Direct and to the point; that was what her friend preferred. She hoped it would be enough.

“There’s no need. I’m fine,” Trude said immediately, her tone painfully stoic to Minna’s ears. This was the brunette’s business voice.

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell when something is bothering you,” She paused, weighing her options, before she decided on the next sentence. “It is time. We truly need to discuss this now.”

Trude’s frown only became more severe. “That will not be necessary.”

“But it is!” Minna said, working hard to keep desperation from creeping into her voice. A commanding officer needed to stay composed, she reminded herself. “Don’t do this, Trude. Please. Don’t shut me out. You know you can tell me anything.”

Trude remained silent, but the subtle rise in her shoulders said enough. Trude was digging in her heels, and the unspoken answer was obvious: _I don’t want to._

It was expected, but it still stung. Trude rarely confided in anyone, and when she did, she only spoke of her feelings with a select few, Minna included. That Trude refused to open up to her now, even when there was no one else around, hurt Minna more than she wanted to show.

Yet she sighed and set that aside, filed away to be processed later. What she needed to do now was push ahead and get to the heart of the matter. Even if it meant forcing Trude out of her comfort zone, it had to be done.

“I know how difficult all of this has been,” she said softly. “But things will get better—Chris will get better.”

Trude went a little pale and became eerily still for a moment, with only her wavering eyes as a sign of inner turmoil. Minna’s composure also faltered at the sight, but she remained insistent, observing her friend with bated breath. However, disappointment lanced through her when Trude simply looked away in the end.

“Just…forget it,” It was an answer, at least.

“Why? The healers stabilized her,” Minna kept her voice gentle, hoping to coax out more. “You remember, don’t you? She’s a strong girl; you and I both know she will recover. It’s only a matter of time.”

Trude shook her head. “There’s no evidence she will.”

Minna was silent for a long moment, turning over the words in her head before she spoke them. “I…I know there are no signs yet. I too assumed she would be awake when we arrived,” She took a deep breath. “But she is still alive. All we can do now is hope. And we can do that together, can’t we?”

“…Hope? That’s it?”

Trude’s voice was low, so quiet it would have gone unheard in a noisier room. She finally glanced back at Minna again, her eyes displaying…something. Minna was uncertain as to what it was. That threw her for a loop; Trude was usually so easy to read. Her guilt at forcing Trude into this conversation morphed into anxiety. She stepped closer, her hand aching to reach out, guided by an instinctual need to comfort her friend.

“There’s no point in hope.”

And Minna stopped, taken aback at the pain she heard in those words.

She remembered the last time Trude had sounded like that. It was only a few weeks prior. The brunette had seemed uncharacteristically small, her shoulders hunched instead of straight, and her eyes so distant it was as if she was in a different place altogether. Getting her to respond had been difficult.

_“I failed her.”_

That statement, spoken so feebly, was something Minna would never forget. Trude hadn’t shed a tear, as though she had none left after mourning her parents months before. She just stood there, listless, none of that trademark fight present. Destroyed by the war.

But she returned to normal after a few days, at least on the surface, and her performance was unchanged. Minna had hoped that Trude was recovering on her own, that they were both picking up the pieces as best they could, but that was not the case at all.

Trude was still broken.

Guilt squeezed Minna’s heart like a vice, her mind spinning with all the ways she could have—should have—forced this sooner. How she had failed as a friend and as a commanding officer.

_I should have known._

She wasn’t sure what to do. How could she fix this? And would Trude even let her? All she could think of was to apologize; her mind was blanking on everything else. But Trude spoke before she could.

“We lost the mainland in six months. The Neuroi destroyed everything. They have us cornered,” Trude grit her teeth. “We don’t have time to sit around and wish for better days.”

Minna suddenly found her voice. “It does matter! Without that…” She didn’t want to think about it. As a commander, she knew the importance of morale. If that plummeted, people would lose the will to fight. It could only make things worse.

“We’re at _war_ ,” Trude countered, her stare hardening. “They’re monsters. Nightmares! Don’t you see?” Her tightly clenched fists trembled at her sides and her voice rose in volume. “They won’t stop until they’ve killed every last one of us, so we need to do the same!” Trude was yelling now. “Nothing else matters!” She turned and gestured wildly at her equipment.  “Only this does!”

Minna was speechless. She couldn’t think. Trude’s face was contorted in an angry snarl—anger that was also directed at _her_ —while her eyes were wide and unnaturally dark with bloodlust. She was shaking all over. Minna had never seen her like this before; try as she might, she struggled to accept this…this stranger…was her old friend.

Suddenly Trude stiffened, and her face reverted back to a rather awkward expression that Minna was much more familiar with. The brunette quickly snapped back into proper form, her gaze cautiously averted.

“My apologies, Wing Commander,” Trude’s business voice was back, all traces of anger gone, or perhaps masked. Minna honestly wasn’t certain anymore. The Trude she thought she knew almost seemed like a relic of the past. “Such behavior is unbecoming of a soldier. I will accept any punishment you see fit.”

The abrupt change in conduct knocked all the wind out of Minna’s sails. Had the air always felt this stifling? Suddenly conflicted, she looked down and mulled over her options. Trude was pushing for a conclusion to this exchange, something Minna was wholeheartedly in opposition of. But upon observing her now impassive friend, she realized Trude’s walls were back up. The moment had passed.

Perhaps it would be best to think of a strategy instead of continuing. It saddened her, but she would have to keep trying. Later.  

“It’s all right,” she said haltingly. Looking Trude in the eyes had never felt more difficult. “Carry on.”

Trude nodded and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

She marched past Minna without so much as a glance in her direction. Minna turned and watched her walk away, overwhelmed by a profound sense of loss.

She’d always preferred being called by her first name, especially when off duty, something that hadn’t changed even when she moved up in rank. Trude thought this to be incredibly peculiar when they first met, and it took Minna a fair amount of time and effort to convince her to go along with it.

Now she had been stripped of that honor. To hear one of her closest companions refer to her only by rank, not by name, was devastating. It made her feel like she was looked upon as a soldier, a mere colleague and not a dear friend. Just like that, Trude felt farther away than ever before. Would Minna ever get through to her again? And even if she did, would there be anything left of the person she once knew?

_“There’s no point in hope.”_

As Minna watched brown twin tails disappear around the corner, she could only pray the hope Trude so desperately needed would come soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter gave me hell. It changed every time I tried to write it, and it kept straying in all kinds of directions! I’m happy to finally see it finished.
> 
> Obviously some parts of this chapter conflict slightly with what Minna said in her CD interview, since I made her more aware of Gertrud’s internal struggle. Still, I believe having Minna know something is seriously wrong, while at the same time making her unable to help, fits her “I should have done more” point of view quite well. 
> 
> The meeting that was mentioned early on in this chapter is based on Track 05 of the Himebana 1 Drama CD. I never actually got to listen to the audio, so my version could differ in execution or intent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been too long. On the upside, I’m certain the next chapter won’t take this long to produce. Sort of. Yeah. Ahem.
> 
> In all seriousness, it took me a while to nail down the direction for this one. I won’t have that issue in future chapters.
> 
> You’ll notice the name ‘Trude’ is replaced by ‘Gertrud’ here, aside from dialogue. This isn’t an oversight; considering all the different ways you could name the cast of Strike Witches in writing, it can be tough to get something consistent going that still sounds good.
> 
> Personally I like using the names the narrator would prefer. This is especially true for smaller-scale stories like these, where I’m not expecting a lot of different points of view. Gertrud would never think of herself as ‘Trude’ so that’s why I use her full name instead.

_August 25, 1944_

Gertrud watched Miyafuji trudge into her quarters, both of them silent. Once the forlorn girl was fully inside, she shut the door and attached the padlock. The key was turned and the lock secured, ensuring the room’s inhabitant wouldn’t run off on some fool’s errand again.

“Listen, Sergeant Miyafuji,” she said, her voice hard as steel. “You are prohibited from leaving except when necessary.” Hearing no defiance from inside, Gertrud walked away.

As soon as she was far enough down the corridor, she sighed.

She liked Miyafuji; locking her up didn’t provide her with any sort of gratification. But the girl had no one but herself to blame. Had her crimes not been so severe, Gertrud had no doubt Minna would have imposed a lesser punishment—and Gertrud might have agreed. But as it stood the girl disobeyed orders, refused to fire during battle, and thus allowed a fellow soldier and superior officer to sustain grievous injuries. A less compassionate commanding officer would have court-martialed her for certain.

Indeed, Minna’s forgiving nature was a matter of course. Other recent events, however, were not. Minna had been displaying some strange behavior as of late: anger, tears, a loss of composure, with today’s incident only exacerbating the issue. All highly anomalous and worthy of further enquiry.

So instead of retiring to her own quarters, Gertrud headed to the administrative wing in search of her friend. She hadn’t seen Minna since Miyafuji’s sentencing hours ago. Busy as she was with keeping the rest of the Wing in line, she hadn’t had a chance to check up on the Wing Commander until now. She knew the woman hadn’t turned in early—it wasn’t in her nature, and she would have told them if she had—so it stood to reason she was still engrossed in her work.

She turned the corner and immediately spotted light, coming not from the hallway’s lamps but from under the door to Minna’s office. She shook her head at the view, her suspicions neatly confirmed.

“Honestly…”

While working late was necessary on occasion, she knew recent events were putting a strain on all of them. They needed rest. Additionally, with Sakamoto incapacitated for the foreseeable future, Minna should know better than to work late into the night when she would be saddled with additional responsibilities the next day. It was Gertrud’s duty as both adjunct and friend to make this clear.

She rapped her knuckles on the door twice in quick succession. It took longer than usual before she heard an answer.

“Who is it?” Minna’s voice was dampened by the thickness of the door.

 _She didn’t recognize my knock?_ And Minna asking for identification was unusual, as well. “Flight Lieutenant Barkhorn, ma’am.”

“Oh!” There were a few unidentifiable sounds and then Minna’s soft voice came again. “Come in.”

When she entered the room, her eyes were instantly drawn to the view behind Minna’s desk. Usually the curtains would be closed in the evening so as to keep out the cold, but now they were open, revealing the large window beyond. The view of the Britannian Channel was a mix of dark blues and blacks, introducing darkness to the room which seemed unlike its inhabitant.  

Minna looked up at her from the other side of the desk, her hands settled in a neat fold upon the lacquered mahogany.

“Trude,” she said warmly, skipping formalities as usual. “What a surprise to see you up.”

Approaching her countryman, Gertrud gave her a brisk nod. “I just finished locking up Miyafuji’s room for the night.” She frowned a little. “Hopefully this is the last stunt she pulls. We’re lucky the two of them even survived.”

It was indeed good fortune that neither of them fell. The 501st was quite large for a Joint Fighter Wing, but lately she was starting to appreciate how vital all of them were to their mission. Losing even one team member would be disastrous, let alone two.

“Yes.” Minna’s voice was a little distant.

Gertrud studied her downcast face, finding the hint of fatigue she was expecting. Minna didn’t look as sharp and perceptive as she usually did. That, too, was a recent abnormality.

“…You’re too tired to be working, Minna.” She added the name for emphasis and scanned the desk, analyzing what still needed to be done. It seemed messier than normal.

She heard Minna chuckle. “Of course you would notice. It’s true; I am a tad worn out. Those reports don’t write themselves, particularly this kind. …Trude? What is it?”

Gertrud’s gaze was locked on a collection of files on the desk, specifically the stack of paperwork haphazardly hidden under a binder. It was obviously unfinished.

She looked Minna in the eye. “You’re having trouble.”

It was neither a question nor an accusation, merely an observation, but it was enough. Minna’s expression became uneasy, all vestiges of drowsiness swept away. Her hand came up to brush some stray locks behind her ear; a nervous tic Gertrud recognized from long ago.

“No, no,” Minna said, but her gaze wandered while doing so, something that did not go unnoticed. “It’s merely a…delay. Today’s events caused a surprising increase in work load, and…” She trailed off.

“You could have requested my assistance if that was the case. But I doubt you needed to. We both know you can handle more than this.” She’d seen Minna process desk work with a speed and efficiency few soldiers could match. It always impressed Gertrud, and she was rather proficient herself.

“I, well…” Minna just stared back, apparently caught flat-footed.

Gertrud sized her up, unnerved by how easy that was. Minna could talk rings around nearly anyone, but it was almost as if all her usual acuity was just…gone. Although not needed, it was the final confirmation there was something seriously wrong.

She leaned forward, positioning the flat of her palms on the desk.

“You haven’t been yourself recently.”

Minna looked down. For a moment she said nothing, seemingly content to eye the worn green carpet under their boots, but eventually she spoke.

“I know,” she said, and let out a tired sigh. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I just felt so…angry, I suppose.” Her face was drawn with guilt and something Gertrud couldn’t identify. “I clearly wasn’t myself. I will apologize to Miyafuji in the morning, I promise.”

“That’s not what I meant.” _You should know that._ “I realize this is not my strong suit, but I know you well enough to recognize you are under a great deal of stress.” She gave Minna the best beseeching look she could. “I’m asking you this as a friend, Minna. If something is bothering you, you should tell someone.” An unpleasant memory came to mind. “You can tell me, if you want. I’m here now and I am not leaving.”

She had deserved that slap. Miyafuji’s words renewed her hope, but it was Minna’s reaction after the battle that truly made her realize how irresponsible she had been. The sting on her cheek had been nothing compared to the flood of reprimands coming from Minna’s mouth, her voice so distressed it edged into furious. Gertrud vividly remembered the fear it suddenly inspired in her, the way her mind seized on a singular thought:

Had they been friends for five years, or only two?

When she saw the tears in Minna’s eyes and felt an arm around her shoulders, she knew it was the former.

She felt relief then, amazement even, that Minna was giving her a second chance, but what lingered now was guilt. She wasn’t the only one suffering from the war; her friends needed her, and she pushed them away. Fortunately Sakamoto took up the role of support during that time—something Gertrud was incredibly thankful for—but with the Squadron Leader injured, she felt more pressed than ever to atone for her mistakes.

“You told me to come to you if something was troubling me.” It was a promise easily made. “So now I want you to do the same. Please.”

Minna’s eyes flickered in uncertainty, but something in her body language told Gertrud she agreed. Perhaps it was the sudden look of resignation on her face, or the way she walked over to the window and left some room at her side, a wordless invitation.

Once Gertrud was beside her, Minna’s posture sagged. The redhead drew a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around herself, her gaze focused on some indiscriminate point across the Britannian Channel. Gertrud didn’t have to guess what she was seeing; fire, not water, oft marked their thoughts. It wasn’t long before Minna spoke, her voice quiet.

“Have you ever considered me...inadequate as a commanding officer?”

It took Gertrud a moment to respond, the question was that unexpected. “No, never.”

Minna’s face was unreadable. “At times, I feel like I am. Today was a particularly poor example of what a commanding officer should be.” Her shoulders drooped just slightly. “A leader should stay composed at all times. I can only imagine what the others think of me now. I’m certain some of them will have noticed.”

Gertrud regarded her thoughtfully. “A wise woman once told me it was healthy to work through your emotions. She said it was better to release them instead of letting them fester.”

“But I am—”

“Human.”

The look Minna gave her was one of astonishment. Still, her lips twitched marginally upward.

“You listened.”

Gertrud huffed, feeling better at seeing the normal Minna emerge, even if it was only a sliver.

“Of course. I take your advice very seriously, as you know.” It was almost embarrassing to admit, but she was giving Minna’s words a lot of thought in her free time. She considered it one of the ways she could become a better person.

This time Minna did smile for a moment; it was still subdued, but it was something.

“I will follow your example, then,” she said solemnly. Her gaze returning to the window, she reached up to fidget with her hair again.

“Sometimes, I can’t help but recall everything that has happened, as well as the many battles yet to come. There is no telling how many more years the war will last.

“When I think of our future as nothing but more fighting, it becomes difficult to stay hopeful. At times, when the situation turns particularly trying, I find myself seeing no future. And I wanted—needed—to keep that to myself.”

Gertrud nodded in understanding. “You didn’t want the Wing to know.”

“Witches such as you and I have already seen so much. I…I want them to retain their innocence in this war. For them to remain optimistic for as long as possible. These thoughts are my burden to bear.”

“But there are others you can share that burden with. You have me, and you have Erica. I’m sure Squadron Leader Sakamoto would listen as well.” Minna’s expression twitched with pain, giving Gertrud pause. “You know, Miyafuji did a wonderful job healing her. Have you visited her yet?”

“I have.” The words were clipped with frustration, and Minna looked down. “I just wish I would never have cause to visit such a place ever again.”

 _I could do without it as well._ “She won’t be in there for long.”

“I know. But when she was injured, I felt so…it was too much, Trude. It was terrible. For a moment I thought…” Their eyes met; Gertrud was caught off-guard by the desperation in Minna’s expression. “I want this war to end. I want things to go back to the way they once were. …I don’t want to”—her voice broke—“lose anyone else.”

The worry roiling in Gertrud’s body escalated into alarm when Minna’s breath hitched and her body started trembling. Tears sprang forth in a sudden torrent, streaking down Minna’s dismayed face in unending rivulets. She rubbed at her eyes, her movements frantic, but as the tears kept coming she seemed to give in. Shrinking into herself, she buried her face in her shaking hands just before a muffled sob slipped out.

For a short time Gertrud could only watch, wide-eyed and speechless at seeing her friend so undone. Hesitantly, she touched Minna’s quivering shoulder. When this produced no adverse reaction, she wrapped her arm around Minna’s frame and pulled her in closer, nestling the slightly taller woman into her side.

Minna turned into her at the touch and before Gertrud could fully comprehend what was happening, hands had already secured a tight grip on the front of her uniform and Minna’s head was buried into the crook of her neck. She jolted at the unexpected contact, but stilled when she felt warm tears wetting her shoulder. Her free hand settled on Minna’s back in an awkward embrace.

The notion to speak some words of comfort came to mind, but she could think of precious few, and none of them felt sufficient. In the end she settled on silence.

"I miss him," Minna cried, hiccupping into Gertrud's uniform. "I miss him so much!"

Gertrud’s arms almost turned limp as the grief and fear in those words hit her, and suddenly every instance of Minna losing control made perfect sense.

She hadn’t known Kurt well; he was Minna’s childhood friend, her first love, and appeared to be a kind, upstanding young man. He surely had to be for Minna to love him so deeply, so completely that she still wept for him three years later.

Gertrud was only just starting to understand how it felt to face her personal losses, but she knew it hurt far more than she ever expected. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how much it was affecting someone as kind and sensitive as Minna, whose fondness for her comrades was her greatest weakness as well as the source of her strength; who gave freely of her heart because she knew the love would help those around her; who encouraged her subordinates to grow not as soldiers, but as people.

She was their guardian in more ways than one.

A thought struck Gertrud, literally so; she could feel its bite in her chest, a hot lance of regret spearing her far underneath the skin.

Minna was their guardian, but who looked after her in return? Who protected her gentle heart from the strife of war? Who ensured she had the time and space to be more than her rank?

None of them did.

Gertrud’s brow furrowed with determination.

Once upon a time, she considered Minna’s eagerness to forge personal bonds to be too close for comfort. She was unnerved by Minna’s proficiency in lowering her guard. Often she questioned whether Minna’s disregard of conventional unit hierarchy wasn’t going too far.

But that was the old Gertrud. The new her preferred it this way.

They were friends—no, they were family. There was a proverb in Karlsland that blood was thicker than water, but whatever connected them was something more important than blood could ever be. It made her feel protective. She wanted to return the unconditional support so generously given, to be there for Minna in the same way Minna was there for her. And she would never desert her again.

So as the trembling in Minna’s body gradually subsided, and Gertrud realized she’d been stroking her back without a conscious decision to do, she couldn’t help the briefest of smiles before she loosened her hold. This was an oath she would have no trouble fulfilling.

Minna stirred and held still for a moment before she pulled back, eyes wide, looking as shocked as Gertrud felt previously.

“I…I’m so sorry.” Rubbing at her puffy eyes cleared any remaining tears, but some faint red splotches on her skin remained. “I can’t believe I just did that! What a mess I must look to you now.”

“I disagree.” Gertrud’s voice was firm. “You are not a ‘mess’, Minna. Crying is normal when you’re in the process of mourning.”

“Yes, but…three years is a long time to grieve. I should have moved on.”

She studied Minna for a long moment, ruminating on those words.

“I may not be knowledgeable on this subject,” she finally said, “but this feels like progress to me. I don’t think we’ve ever discussed this before.”

“…I suppose so. And I do feel better.” Minna sighed. “I just wonder how much time will pass before the past becomes easier to bear.”

“We’ll find out. Together, one step at a time. Remember?”

“I do remember.” Minna finally laughed; the sound was so very welcome to Gertrud’s ears. “When I gave you that speech, I never imagined it would be used like this.”

“Neither did I.” Gertrud stared at her intently. “Promise me you won’t keep all of this inside again.”

The assent in Minna’s eyes was reassuring.

“I promise. In the next instance it gets to be too much, I will seek out a listening ear. Speaking of which…” Her expression softened. “I enjoyed this. It’s so wonderful to have the opportunity to chat like we used to. I know our schedules are busy at the moment, but I would love it if we could do this more often.”

Gertrud nodded without hesitation. “Of course, whenever you want.”

Minna’s smile was warm enough to brighten up the room, but the quick hug she gave Gertrud felt even better.

“Thank you so much.” Her voice was full of emotion as she let go. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“That’s what family is for.” This was only the second time she used that word for someone not related by blood, and it still surprised her how easy it was. She put a hand on Minna’s arm. “Now, come with me.”

Minna hesitated. “Are you certain?” She looked back at her desk. “I should…”

“We will get it done tomorrow,” she said with a tone of finality. “Don’t tell Erica I ever said this, but leave your work for now.”

Minna let out a gasp, the exaggerated sound and her playful face crafting a teasing image that was impossible to miss.

“What’s this? Gertrud Barkhorn, soldier of Karlsland, telling her commanding officer to neglect her duties? Perhaps my guidance is a bad influence on you!”

Gertrud couldn’t help a chuckle at Minna’s dramatic tone of voice. “Come on.” She steered the two of them outside.

Minna giggled, but she relented. “Where are we going?” she asked, locking the door.

“To the mess hall.” Her eyebrow was raised, the look she shot Minna half exasperation and half forgiveness. “You missed dinner.”

She’d made certain Minna’s meal was left untouched, and she wasn’t going anywhere until it was finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minna is a seriously strong woman. She has to deal with a lot and handles it all with utmost grace. Eventually she does snap, but she manages to regain herself and overcomes her issues with barely any help from the others. 
> 
> This is admirable, but due to her personality and her rank, it can leave her in the lurch when it comes to her emotional well-being. I just feel like she needs a little love, romantic or platonic, to really feel at her best. Some personal ‘me-time’ helps too.
> 
> So I think that’s what I wanted to do most in this chapter. I wanted Minna to finally take rather than just give, but without detracting from her inner strength. Fortunately this also coincides well with Trude’s strong sense of loyalty.
> 
> Trude asking Minna if she’s visited Mio is meant to mirror episode 4, where Minna points out Trude hasn’t visited Chris yet. In both cases the question is asked to make the recipient feel better, and in both cases it kind of backfires.


End file.
